Page 11 of Romancing the Scot
Hugh was impatient to talk to Jo about their mystery patient. He assumed she was still alive. He’d received no word to the contrary while he was in Edinburgh.
A few moments wouldn’t make a difference. Leaving Truscott behind, he strode to the open doors of the smithy. The tall man was working alongside a soot-covered helper.
“You wished to speak with me, Mr. Darby?”
Seeing him, the blacksmith hung up his leather apron and came out. Hugh motioned toward the kennels and they moved across to the low building. Whatever he had to say, the man might as well have some privacy doing it. A dozen small hounds came across the fenced-in enclosure, tails wagging.
“First off, I wanted to thank you, m’lord.” The blacksmith took off his cap, clutching it in two hands. “I know I’d still be rotting in that jail if not for you.”
“No need to thank me. I like to think we do a decent job of dispensing the law in this region. But what happened to you was wrong.”
“That’s my life, m’lord. I was born and raised in the East End of London. A tough place,” he added. “Coming north for this job, I was hoping for a change.”
“I can assure you that you’ll be treated fairly at Baronsford and paid according to your worth. Mr. Truscott is a fair man.”
“To be sure, I already see that.”
The cap continued to twist in his large fists. Hugh had spent enough years on the bench to know when a man was building his courage to say more. He leaned over the fence and petted the dogs.
“I’m grateful for your generosity, m’lord. I’ve met with only kindness from everyone since I arrived yesterday. But . . .” He paused, his gaze scouring the ground between them. “I wish to bring no trouble to your door. You been kind to me, so I’d like to be square with you. Your neighbor who was to employ me didn’t know everything about this. I’m no murderer or a thief, but there are folk who look down on—”
“I’m aware of your previous arrest in London, Mr. Darby,” Hugh said, facing him. “After the Spa Fields riots last December, you spent twenty-six days in jail before being released. No charge was brought against you.”
This past December’s riots had been the culmination of a decade of discontent over high prices and taxes after the French Wars. And London’s poorest were not the only ones who went out onto the streets demonstrating. To the surprise of many, a large number of aristocrats joined the so-called ‘rabble.’
“You know this and still you took me on?”
“Protesting against the government is a time-honored right.” He didn’t want to mention the laws Parliament had enacted since those riots.
The blacksmith stopped abusing his cap and let out a relieved breath.
“We have a need for tradesmen here,” Hugh said, changing the topic. “And Mr. Truscott tells me you’re an able blacksmith.”
“I work hard, m’lord.”
A different man stood before him now. One who was free of the shadows of the past.
“Excellent. In fact, I could use your help with a certain project of mine, if you’re willing.”
“I’d be happy to help, m’lord.”
“Good. I’ll arrange it with Mr. Truscott on when he can lend your services to me.”
Hugh needed a metalworker to assist him with his ballooning, and he had no doubt Truscott was thinking just that when he hired Darby.
A few moments later, when Hugh reached the house, Jo was waiting for him. Her brisk greeting and troubled expression indicated that she needed his attention right away.
“Library?” he asked.
“The downstairs library will be fine.” She turned to one of the footmen standing nearby. “Please ask Mrs. Henson to send in some tea for his lordship.”
Not waiting for him, she walked off in that direction. Hugh shed his hat and cloak and followed her.
She was pacing the floor when he entered. Jo was generally calm in temperament. She was a natural peacemaker, patient in dealing with the nuisance of mundane disagreements. The only time her emotions surfaced, it was because of the family. When the need arose, she became a lioness protecting the pride.
“You’re wearing a path in the carpet, Jo.” He closed the door behind him. “What is it?”
She stopped, facing him. “It’s about our guest.”
